


the Heart has many Doors (I can but knock)

by blackkat



Series: Trashy & Tropey [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “Nico Diath, seeking sanctuary. I never thought I would see the day.”
Relationships: Nico Diath/Dooku | Darth Tyranus
Series: Trashy & Tropey [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999795
Comments: 10
Kudos: 256





	the Heart has many Doors (I can but knock)

**Author's Note:**

> For the trope "Dukes".

“Nico Diath, seeking sanctuary. I never thought I would see the day.”

Nico closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, because he’s soaked through, freezing, limping, and even standing is a strain. He doesn’t have the energy for their little spats right now.

“Count Dooku,” he returns, and lifts his chin, watching the grand sweep of Dooku's cloak down the castle’s staircase. He’s always been a dramatic bastard. “Thank you for your kindness.”

Nico may be imagining the flicker that crosses Dooku's face, but even if he isn't, the deliberate lift of Dooku's brow covers it. “So formal, old friend. Have I changed so much?”

For a long moment, Nico just looks at him, and Dooku was always careful with his appearance, but—seeing him in fancy robes with golden accents is still a shock. In contrast, Nico feels like a swamp rat, standing here dripping on the fine marble floor, his cloak soaked through, the tunics beneath scorched and tattered, an exhausted child asleep in his arms.

“No, Dooku,” he allows after a moment, and sighs, reaching up to push his hood back with his free hand. “Only in the trappings.”

Something in the curve of Dooku's mouth softens, and he glances down at the grey head resting on Nico's shoulder, still unconscious. As he comes to a stop just in front of them, he reaches out, brushing a few strands of Tae's hair back, and then glances up at Nico.

Nico can't read his face. It’s hard to remember a time when he ever could.

“A Diath, I assume,” Dooku says, though not as if he’s asking.

Nico huffs. “A Diath,” he confirms wryly. “My nephew, Tae. He was taken by bounty hunters.”

Dooku's expression flickers, just a little. “The same bounty hunters that drove you here, presumably. My security will deal with them, should they decide to try the castle.”

Nico has been running for long enough that just that reassurance is enough to make him shaky with relief, and he inclines his head. “Thank you,” he says, and then, because he’s never really known when to stop talking, “I know we parted under less than ideal circumstances—”

“You accused me of being a coward,” Dooku says, cool.

Nico _doesn’t_ pull a face at him, because they're not twelve years old and hiding in the Archives with texts on forbidden Force techniques anymore. “You’ve always been a coward, Dooku,” he says sharply. “Jedi are meant to face their emotions, not flee from them.”

Dooku's indrawn breath is sharp, but he doesn’t take a step back. Closes his eyes, just for a moment, and Nico feels a flicker of…regret, maybe. Rueful repentance, at the very least.

“Forgive me, old friend,” he says quietly, and hitches Tae up a little higher on his shoulder. “I'm over-tired and can't control my tongue.”

The curve of Dooku's mouth is all reluctant amusement. “You say that as though you have _ever_ controlled your tongue, Nico,” he says, and holds out a hand, deliberate. “I am not a Jedi any longer, but…” An exhale, low, and he meets Nico's eyes. “I would like to believe I'm less of a coward now.”

“It would be hard for you to be _more_ of one,” Nico says tartly, but—

He curls his hand over Dooku's, gripping tightly, and it’s been years since they touched, but it still sparks the same curl of warmth and old, familiar awareness somewhere deep in Nico's chest.

“This time,” Dooku says quietly, “I think you’ll find that I'm not inclined to run away.”

Nico tightens his grip, and he of all people knows Dooku's struggle with the Dark, his grief for is padawan, his dismay with the Senate. They’ve both struggled separately for so long, and yet—

“Stay,” Dooku says, low. “My lands are yours, and I will keep your nephew safe. And you, as well.”

Nico closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out. Dooku is lost, wandering. He’s looking for something, and Nico was distracted in the Outer Rim before, couldn’t be close to help when Dooku left the Order, but he’s here now. He’s here, and Dooku is _asking_.

That’s enough.

“I’ll stay,” he says, and Dooku pulls him deeper into the castle as the storm rages outside the walls.


End file.
